


method of action

by annejumps



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bottom!Erik, First Time, M/M, Neighbors, Ridiculousness, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 09:29:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5411672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There’s no need to be embarrassed. Whatever it is--”<br/>“I accidentally took an experimental drug, developed from alien spores, that’s given me a splitting headache as well as an erection that won’t go away no matter how many times I come.”<br/>“Oh.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	method of action

**Author's Note:**

> A loose variation on sex pollen.

Charles knew two things about his new neighbor: that he was a mutant, and that he was very attractive. 

Well, three things. There was a newsfeed broadcast in their building’s lobby, and in the three weeks or so since the neighbor had moved in, he and Charles had gotten into a few spirited discussions about mutant rights, in the lobby, in the elevator, and in the hall outside their doors. Charles favored normalizing and assimilation, and the neighbor seemed more interested in separatism, which Charles found impractical and unrealistic at best, though he’d never quite said as much in so many words, given how uninterested the neighbor seemed in learning more about Charles’ viewpoint. Regardless, he was a good-looking man….

During their brief encounters, Charles couldn't really have helped getting a sense of his mind, as well; it was organized, sleek, efficient. Intriguing, with an impressive depth to it, the notion of a lot going on below the surface. Beyond that general impression, though, Charles didn't allow himself to probe further. 

He kept telling himself that as soon as he had a chance, he'd ask him out properly. It would also be acceptable for the man to ask him out. 

His sister thought it was all hilarious. “What happened to that outrageous flirt who sexed up everyone he could at Oxford?” she’d ask whenever Charles casually mentioned something the man had told him about mutant rights (Raven was also passionate about the topic). 

They hadn’t even introduced themselves properly, and Charles hadn’t said much at all about his own mutation. Charles did know the man’s mutation involved metal.

Charles had to admit, though, that three weeks was a long time for him. Though the man seemed to be a private person, he might very well just not be interested in Charles, which would explain why he hadn’t asked him out, and why he never really seemed to linger in conversation longer than he had to to make his points. Although, granted, he spent plenty of time making his points, and determinedly so. It was actually rather charming, and all of Charles’ colleagues as well as his sister had largely grown weary of debating him, so it was refreshing to have someone new to discuss things with. 

Even if the man simply wasn’t interested in Charles, just asking if he wanted to get coffee or something would at least tell him whether there was any chance with the man. It seemed, however, that he never ran into him except when going to work or coming home, and very little noise ever came from his apartment. In general, Charles felt that going over and visiting might be intrusive.

One evening, Charles felt a strong spike of wild panic coming from the man's apartment.

His immediate instinct was to help. But how would he explain himself? Even mutants weren't great fans of telepaths. What would he say, "Sorry, happened to hear your anguish in my mind"?

Then the man let out a cry, and Charles had his excuse.

He rushed over to the man's apartment, and knocked on the door. No answer. 

He knocked again, calling out, "Hello? I heard you shout.... Are you all right, is there anything I can do?"

After a moment in which he could sense the man's confusion, his desire for help warring with his desire for privacy, Charles heard the tumblers of the locks begin to turn. To his surprise, however, there was no one on the other side of the door. Ah, yes, of course: the man's mutation at work.

"Sorry, I'll just... come in, then," Charles called, closing the door behind him, watching with no small amount of interest as the door appeared to lock itself. Well, at least the man had enough wherewithal to still make use of his powers.

"Bedroom," the man croaked, distantly.

Charles made his way hesitantly through the man’s neat, stylish apartment, to his bedroom, where the door was half closed and the room was unlit, what was inside only visible from the light in the living room and the streetlights through the curtains.

The man had the covers pulled up almost entirely over himself, only some gingery tufts of hair visible over the duvet.

“My apologies. I did not mean to disturb you,” the man said, voice muffled, and sounding wrecked, yet as formal and haughty as he could manage. 

“What is it? A migraine?” Charles asked, sympathetic. “If you haven’t got anything for it, I can bring you--”

“Not exactly,” the man interrupted, voice sounding almost like a groan. “Let me explain… if I can.”

“Do you want to pull the duvet down a bit?” Charles asked. “I feel rather silly talking to you through it.”

“If you want me to explain to you what’s happened you’ll let me leave it covering my face. The situation is… humiliating.”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. Whatever it is--”

“I accidentally took an experimental drug, developed from alien spores, that’s given me a splitting headache as well as an erection that won’t go away no matter how many times I come.”

“Oh.”

Charles realized, startled, that the air in the bedroom smelled faintly of… recently discharged semen, and that there were crumpled tissues strewn about the bedclothes. 

“Well,” the man said, sounding bitter, “according to my pharmaceutical-developing friend who pulled this little prank on me, the drug was in development for female mutants with particular mutations affecting their reproductive organs who wished to increase their sex drive and fertility. Of course, the public has no idea they’re developing them from alien spores. There’s a lot the public doesn’t know.” He sighed, and Charles would bet he was rolling his eyes. “Anyway, he said there would be no effect on me, and dared me to take it. Now, according to the package insert, it won’t wear off until I’m… ‘mated.’” The air-quotes were evident from the man’s tone.

“‘Mated,’” Charles echoed. “But you’re not able to get pr--”

“Not that I am aware of,” the man said dryly. “In lieu of… my fertilizing anything, no idea what would suffice when it comes to getting this to stop. All I know is, my head and my cock are killing me.”

“And going to hospital is out of the question?”

The man’s silence spoke for him.

“Right. Perhaps I can help,” Charles said, stepping closer to the bed.

The man pulled down the duvet so that just his eyes were uncovered, and he regarded Charles, looking him up and down. “Perhaps,” he said, finally. 

“What’s your name?” Charles asked, unbuttoning his jeans. Duty called.

The man watched him. “Erik. With a K.”

“Charles Xavier,” Charles said, leaving his jeans hanging off his hips for the moment as he pulled off his t-shirt. He toed off his shoes. “Pleasure to meet you, Erik. Well. We’ve already met, I suppose, we just didn’t properly introduce ourselves.”

Erik hummed, noncommittal or perhaps distracted, still watching as Charles stripped down to his undershorts.

“Right,” Charles said, putting his jeans aside, “you may as well pull back the covers now, I know everything.” He smiled, wanting to seem encouraging. 

Erik pushed the covers down without a word. He was naked and he did indeed have an erection, a red and rather angry-looking one, quite well sized indeed. He swallowed, looking up at Charles. 

“Right,” Charles said again, staring at the lean muscles of Erik’s narrow belly, how they tensed as he breathed. “What do you think would work,” he asked, “me fucking you or you fucking me?”

“We might have to try both,” Erik said, sounding a bit breathless. “But… you should probably fuck me. If that’s all right with you.”

“It is,” Charles answered immediately. “Whatever helps.”

Erik swallowed again. “If y-- My head is killing me, I’d like to get this over with as quickly as possible.” He looked away.

“Of course.” Charles took off his undershorts and socks, hasty, and after a moment of wild uncertainty, got onto the bed and bridged himself over Erik, who blinked up at him. “Do you have any lu--”

“Hold on.” Erik closed his eyes for a moment, and his bedside drawer opened by its metal handle. Taking the cue, Charles rooted around in it. 

“Condom?” he asked. 

“I don’t have anything catching,” Erik said, shaking his head, not looking at Charles. 

“Nor do I. And a condom might block whatever might make you feel as though you were… mated.” 

Erik nodded.

Something occurred to Charles. “Erik,” he said, “I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you -- I wasn’t specific with you about my mutation, but I’m a telepath, and I might be able to go into your mind and… adjust things.”

Erik raised a brow. “You’re saying this now that we’re both naked and you’re holding the lube.”

Charles waited.

Erik sighed. “All right, try it.”

Charles set down the lube and rested his weight on one hand, putting his other to his temple to concentrate better. He slipped into Erik’s mind, and tried to soothe the pain, as well as counter the drug by trying to persuade the most primitive part of Erik’s brain into believing that he was already mated.

He withdrew from Erik’s mind. “How’s that?”

A few beats. Erik looked thoughtful, and a trifle annoyed. “I don’t think it worked. I’m still in a great deal of pain, and my erection’s gone nowhere.”

Charles slumped. 

“Maybe you’re just not powerful enough,” Erik added.

Charles looked at him sternly in rebuke, and said patiently, “It doesn’t make any sense for that not to have worked. I should be able to make changes in your mind.”

Erik was unmoved, observing, “But not my body, apparently.”

“They’re directly connected,” Charles argued. “If I wanted to, I could kill your body via your mind.”

“Don’t bother trying to prove that. Well, with that having failed for whatever reason, you’ll have to fuck me,” Erik said.

Charles huffed out a breath and picked up the lube again. “I would have thought you’d be a little more… desperate,” he said, sitting back while straddling Erik, and starting to slick himself up.

“I’m controlling it,” Erik said, with great dignity, considering how fixedly he was staring at Charles’ cock.

“You weren’t controlling it a few minutes ago when you were -- dare I say -- crying out in need.”

Erik cleared his throat. “I was alone then, or so I thought,” he said. “And it wasn’t need. It was frustration.” Despite being naked and panting and flushed beneath Charles, Erik was looking at him with an almost bored expression. Were it not for the roiling lust emanating from his mind, Charles would have thought him entirely unmoved. Erik wanted him. But whether that was just the drug or Erik himself was frustratingly unclear. 

But he’d pledged his help. “Well, you’re not alone now. Legs up,” Charles said, shifting back. Erik looked mulish for a moment, eyes glinting in the semi-dark, but he shifted to rest his legs at Charles’ sides.

“I’m not thrilled about this, you know,” Erik said, trying to sound lofty, ending in a swallow.

“Mm, neither am I.”

Erik looked pointedly at Charles’ erect cock.

“I find you attractive, all right? And I’m trying to help you. I’m not happy that you’re in pain and distress,” Charles said, moving his still-slick fingers to slip them inside Erik, who gasped and tilted his hips. “You hadn’t tried putting anything inside yourself?” he asked. “No... metal dildos?” Now there was an image.

Erik shook his head. “Not yet. I was going to try that next, but….” He was almost panting now, as Charles’ fingers probed him. “You… find me attractive? Why haven’t you asked me out?”

With Erik rocking eagerly against his hand, whilst at the same time obviously struggling to contain himself, Charles looked down at him. “I assumed you weren’t interested. After all, you didn’t ask me out, either.”

“I couldn’t get a word in edgewise… while you were… saying stupid things about mutants,” Erik panted. “Charles,” he added, urgent, apparently his way of getting the idea of “please” across.

“You’ve got a lot of bloody nerve,” Charles remarked with no malice. He withdrew his fingers and shifted back, lining up and pushing in.

“No one’s ever accused me otherwise,” Erik managed to say, breathing through clenched teeth, shuddering, wrapping his limber legs around Charles and squirming under him, taking him in. Erik moaned, closing his eyes, suddenly dropping his attempt at composure. “Oh, please, let this work,” he breathed, seemingly to himself.

Well. Charles was trying to help, he reminded himself. Erik hadn’t said he found Charles attractive, even if he had felt those waves of lust coming off him -- again, that could be just the drug.

Gallantry on his mind, Charles began thrusting. With vigor.

Immediately, Erik was gasping at each press of Charles’ hips flush against him, pushing himself up against Charles to get him deeper, wrapping his arms around him as if to keep him there, as if Charles had any intention of trying to escape. Seeing Charles watching him, he swallowed, face flushed, and obviously attempted to calm himself down. 

“Can’t you… read minds?” Erik said.

“Yes?” Charles said.

“Then you couldn’t just… tell I was attracted to you?” Erik wrapped a hand around himself, and winced as he gave himself a squeezing stroke. Charles thought to himself that people who were attracted to him usually acted like it.

“I try not to probe into people’s minds if I can help it. I can catch surface thoughts,” Charles panted. “You’re quite a private person, you must have hidden it well.”

“You could have made me ask you out,” Erik said distractedly, mouth slack.

Charles frowned. “Yes, technically,” he said, “but I prefer people to behave toward me using their own free will.”

“I don’t exactly have entirely free will right now,” Erik said, with a short laugh.

“Would sleeping with me be something you’d never do of your own free will?” Charles asked, lowering himself down a bit, changing his angle.

“Not exactly,” Erik said. “That is to say, it’s not contrary to my free will, no.”

“How flattering,” Charles said.

“Considering what you’re doing right now,” Erik said, shuddering as he stroked himself, “I think flattered is how you should feel, yes.”

“Flattered because... I happen to live next door to you... and happened to come to your aid,” Charles managed to say.

“I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re making my headache worse. If we’re still talking you’re not fucking me hard enough,” Erik said, almost disdainful despite how hard he was breathing and shuddering, and Charles’ heart skipped a beat. 

“Right, we can argue later,” Charles said, and really went for it.

“At least we can agree on-- something--” Erik gasped, unable to tamp down the urgent need that flooded his mind. His free hand slid down Charles’ back, the caress of his long fingers and the heat radiating from his palm -- not to mention the unexpected intimacy of the seemingly unconscious gesture -- causing Charles to shiver. 

Predictably, however, they did not stop talking for long; their conversation simply became more absurdly breathless. At least it was Erik who spoke first.

“So,” Erik gasped, “why didn’t you tell me you were a telepath?”

“I don’t make a habit of... disclosing that to people I’ve only just met. Certainly not in the public areas of the building in which I live.”

“Why not?”

“Is this really the time for a discussion of mutant ethics, with my cock up your arse?” He knew as he said it that it was a silly question. 

“What does ethics have to do with it?”

“Psionic powers frighten people--” Erik opened his mouth, but Charles continued, firmly as was possible-- “even other mutants. I don’t disclose... for their peace of mind as well as my safety. It’s so much... less complicated for everyone concerned.”

“You could avoid threats by... warning people not to antagonize you... from the outset.”

“I could make myself a target and cause far more trouble than is strictly necessary. Besides, if we’re talking strategy surely it’s best to keep such a… weapon… as my mutation a secret.” He made his distaste for the word “weapon” plain, he hoped. “I suppose you’ve handed out flyers to every resident in the building?”

Erik scowled. “I’d rather not have them all come looking for me with torches and pitchforks if the elevator malfunctions.”

“But you’d be able to fix it?” Charles asked.

“Of course.”

Charles tsked. “You were right, you shouldn’t still be talking.”

Erik suddenly squeezed Charles’ arse with both hands and Charles absolutely did not yelp in surprise. “At least you admit I was right.”

Charles growled and found new reserves of energy. Erik again wrapped a hand around himself with the air of doing Charles a favor, belied by how red his face was and the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. 

Desperation plainer now, with a groan not devoid of actual pain Erik started to come, and a flood of pleasure from his mind startled Charles into coming too. Not that he minded, but he could have done with a bit more warning. It was a tad embarrassing. Luckily, Erik was preoccupied with trying to figure out if he’d been cured. 

“No offense, Charles,” Erik said after a moment, “but there wasn’t anything particularly unusual about that orgasm.”

“Likewise,” Charles retorted, a bit stung.

“I’m sorry,” Erik muttered, not sounding sorry, “I’m not accustomed to having sex with strangers.”

“Nor am I.” That wasn’t strictly true but anyway that was ages ago and surely no longer relevant. “But don’t let’s worry just yet, it’s only been seconds. It might still work.” 

They blinked at each other. Erik glanced down at his cock; it was still hard.

“Right,” Charles said finally, and pulled out. 

Erik sighed, slumping back into the bed. There was a little pout on his handsome face, now forlorn. He shook his head, then winced in discomfort. “Might as well kiss me, after all that, seeing as you haven’t yet.” He glanced away, then very quickly back at Charles, then away again. He had distractingly long eyelashes. 

“Mm,” Charles agreed, stretching down a bit to touch his lips to Erik’s. 

For all his show of ambivalence, Erik responded right away, pressing up to Charles and opening for him, fitting their mouths together with surprising ease. 

Like that, they were sharing breath, and it was oddly far more intimate even than what they’d just been doing, their tongues sliding together seeming almost obscene. Charles shifted, tilting his head to kiss Erik more deeply, and felt Erik’s hand cup his shoulder on an inhalation. Taking that as encouragement, Charles kept kissing him. 

Erik made a soft, cut-off sound in his throat and relaxed beneath him, but almost imperceptibly; even, or perhaps especially, in these circumstances, he wouldn’t let his guard down completely. But just that little hint was remarkable. 

Charles eventually had to get in a proper breath; he pulled back just slightly to stare back at Erik, who was blinking up at him, dazed, with an expression Charles suspected was not dissimilar to his own. They both glanced downward.

Erik had gone soft; normally, that wasn’t what Charles wanted to see after a kiss like that (not that any prior kisses quite compared to that one), but now he was rather glad, and--

“Headache’s gone too,” Erik confirmed, speaking slowly and looking surprised. 

“Was it the kiss, do you suppose?” Charles sat back on his heels, and covered his mouth with his hand, feeling his eyes go wide.

“I think so,” Erik said.

“Well, at least something’s worked.” Charles waited a beat, then glanced around with the idea of cleaning up and gathering his clothes from the floor. He was unsure what else to do, still a little weak-kneed from all that, especially the kiss, and reluctant to peek into Erik’s mind to see if he were welcome. Perhaps now that he’d served his purpose, he’d be relegated once more to an opponent in ridiculous arguments in the lobby. Well, it was Erik’s prerogative.

With Erik saying nothing, Charles stood to pick up his clothes. “Can I just, in your--” he said, waving his free hand in a sort of “washing up” gesture.

“You can stay,” Erik said quickly, not looking at Charles as he mopped himself up with another Kleenex and added it to the pile. “If you like. If you don’t have anything else to do.”

“I can what? Well. All right. I suppose I….” Charles trailed off and narrowed his eyes at Erik. “Is this part of your… ‘mated’ feeling?”

“I don’t think so,” Erik said. “I think once the drug’s effects wear off, that includes everything. That is, I don’t think it’s truly altered my mind.”

“Right,” Charles said. “I’ll just be a moment,” he added, dropping his clothes to the floor again and going to Erik’s bathroom to clean himself up and stare into his own eyes in the mirror, mouthing “What the bloody hell” to his equally astonished reflection.

Erik regarded him calmly as he walked back to the bed, but Charles could feel a faint turmoil of confusion, lust, excitement, and exasperation emanating from him. They turned to face each other as Charles got into bed with him properly, under the sheets, which were in need of a good laundering but never mind that now.

Erik put an ankle over Charles’, and opened his mouth to speak. Charles expected an awkward declaration regarding what had just happened between them, but instead Erik said, “Charles, what you’re failing to understand about separatism is that--”

Charles sighed. “It’s not a case of my not _understanding_ \--”

“Then it’s a case of your failure to accept--”

“It’s a refusal to accept your flawed premise, yes, absolutely.” Unable to resist that arrogant expression on Erik’s chiseled face, or the impulse to make him stop talking, Charles cupped Erik’s jaw and kissed him for quite a long time until he had to stop. “I don’t know whether to thank or curse your friend who dared you to take that drug.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Erik’s mouth curved in wry amusement, and Charles just had to kiss it again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Liz and [niniblack](http://archiveofourown.org/users/niniblack/pseuds/niniblack) for looking this over!


End file.
